


First Date

by bigsunglasses



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsunglasses/pseuds/bigsunglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eve takes charge.</p><p>For this prompt: http://librarians-kink.livejournal.com/1228.html?thread=9932#t9932</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Date

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place just after S01E10.

"You're actually calling that a date."

"I asked you out on a date, didn't I? And then we went somewhere. Together. Ergo, a date!"

Eve drops her gun in the desk drawer - _her_ desk drawer - hovering somewhere between amusement and irritation. Flynn's logic is Librarian logic, i.e., not logic. "Not that I didn't have fun, but I think the International Space Station astronauts were just a bit surprised to find us floating around in their airlock shouting for help. Tell me, how many governments now have us on their watchlist? How many space agencies - not to mention secret agencies - are now starting a frantic search for the invisible spaceship and its _vanishing astronauts_?"

Flynn is dancing around the Annex, something cradled in his arms, using his toe to open cupboards before peering inside and moving on. "Look on the bright side," he calls over his shoulder. "We stopped the astronauts starting up an experiment that Morgan Le Fay had tampered with, which would have brought the astronauts visitors much more upsetting than us. We're better than an army from the lands of Fay, right? Right. Aha! Come and give me a hand." He has located an empty cupboard, and squats beside it. Sighing, Eve strolls over and assists him to empty his arms of several small, rattling boxes. "Jenkins should have fun analysing these," Flynn begins, and then stops when Eve's hand presses firmly over his mouth. His eyes look up, questioningly.

She smiles. She likes him looking up at her, likes the way his focus - often erratic as a goldfish - snaps entirely to her. "Stop talking," she breathes. "Now it's time for _my_ idea of a date."

For a moment he holds motionless, and then she feels his mouth move into a smile beneath her hand. Then from a smile to ... His kiss is soft as a butterfly against her palm, and like the butterfly effect shivers onwards through her body.

She slides her hand down his throat, where the pulse beats fast, and grips his collar before leaning down for a kiss. Her eyes drift shut as she savours everything about the moment: feel and sound and taste and scent. Her NATO career gave her many wonderful things, but romantic relationships weren't one of them: being ricocheted around the world as postings demanded didn't leave much space for such things to develop. Kissing someone she intends to be kissing for many years to come is ... new.

She sinks to her knees, their mouths still locked, and shoves him back against the cupboard. _You're not leaving me this time_ , she thinks, and slides her hands into his hair, gripping hard, so he can't move his head. Their few, precious kisses have haunted her dreams during the months he was away searching for the Library, and now she's going to take her fill. Slowly. At her pleasure.

Moving closer, she nibbles her way down his chin and neck. His stubble is surprisingly soft against her lips. Her whole body is alive to the sensation of his, pressed against the cupboard, warm and vital and hers. His pulse is even faster now, his breath erratic against her cheek. Is that the ghost of a laugh? "Guardian," he murmurs, a clever hand unfastening her shirt and sliding into her bra cups. "Oh, my Guardian."

His touch at her nipples, warm and gentle as sunlight, short-circuits her mind and she gasps, pressing against him, her mission to kiss every inch of his body momentarily suspended. His free hand is peeling her shirt and bra away and she is absolutely sure that in a moment he's going to kiss her nipples and she will lose control completely. _No, no,_ she thinks, _not this, not this:_ he doesn't get to take charge in everything.

He's whispering sweet nothings - _such_ sweet nothings - in her ear and continues to whisper them, eyes crinkled with amusement and adoration, when she covers his mouth once more. "No talking, Librarian," she orders, standing on legs that shake with desire. She still has one arm in a sleeve and a bra-strap, so she shakes off them off, and then hauls Flynn upright by the collar. "Desk," she says, heat pounding through her.

"My desk?" His voice is uneven, his eyes pinned longingly on her breasts.

" _My_ desk. And I said, no talking!" 

Next time she'll find an intimate use for his fast tongue, but right now she has other plans. She pulls him in for another lingering kiss, then drags him across the room. At the desk she rips his shirt off. Much easier than bothering with all those stupid buttons. He helps her with his trousers, definitely slowing the process, sneaking kisses as they work, and she decides that having them around his ankles is good enough for now, almost like cuffs really. _You can't slide away from me now, my Librarian_.

He's started talking - again - but Eve slides her hand inside his boxers and suddenly he's a puddle of butter falling back against the desk, murmuring incoherently as she strokes and caresses. She leans over him, feathering kisses across his belly, swirling her tongue around his nipples, occasionally dipping to his mouth for a kiss or two.

"I'm - I'm going to - " he whimpers, and she stills her hand. 

"Not yet, Librarian." It's the voice of command, and it pulls him back from the brink. She gets rid of her own trousers and underwear, inefficiently and awkwardly since she can't bear to lose skin-to-skin contact with him, and then climbs onto the desk and straddles his hips. She bends, kisses his urgent mouth, and slowly sinks down to encompass him. Oh god, it's satisfying to see him beneath her, to know she's got him, to exult in the sheer yearning she feels in his body's tension. He's moving to touch her again, questing fingers seeking her breasts and between her legs: she'll let him, another time, but not this time, when she's as close to the brink as him. "No, hold me - like this," she says, directing his grip, and begins to rise up and down. Oh, it feels exquisite. His fingers against her hips are hot and hard, and he is looking up at her like she's a goddess. His personal goddess. 

His expression undoes her. She moves urgently, the horizon of desire approaching fast, all her pent-up longing turning to fire in her veins. "When I come - you can too," she whispers, shutting her eyes, moving just so around and against him - just _so_ \- A tidal wave of trembling heat engulfs her, rushing through flesh, skin and blood, pure pleasure. She feels Flynn succumbing to that same wave, crying out beneath her, and she slumps down against his warm chest, luxuriating in bone-deep contentment. His heart races against her ear, and she slides her arms around him. _I've got you_.

As their pulses slow to a drowsy norm, his arms wrap around her, too. "Not talking is more fun than I thought," he whispers against her hair.

She laughs into his skin. He calls that not talking? _Oh, my dear Librarian,_ she thinks, smiling and holding his naked, vital form close. _You're mine. All mine._


End file.
